


Drive-In

by leiascully



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Gen, drive-in movies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:08:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26067748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leiascully/pseuds/leiascully
Summary: Two more turns and a rectangle of light looms at the side of the road.  It’s a drive-in theater.  She hasn’t been to one in so long she can’t remember.
Kudos: 10





	Drive-In

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline: S6  
> A/N: for an anon who requested drive-in movies.

After hours of investigating piles of manure, they stumble back to the motel and shower. They hardly say a word to each other, too weary for conversation. They slip out of their respective dented doors after half an hour. Scully’s in jeans and a t-shirt that she threw into her suitcase at the last minute. She’s tired of her good suits ending up stinking and dusty. She’s tired of trying to shove her feet into rubber boots that are inevitably too big. She managed, for the first few trips, to bring button-down shirts and business-casual slacks, but she’s done with that. Mulder nods at her. His hair is damp. He’s wearing a flannel shirt loose over his t-shirt. Scully envies him. They’re far enough north that the evening is cool. 

They climb into the car without talking. Mulder navigates the turns to the closest fast food restaurant that looks bearable. He takes the big bag from the kid in the window. Grease is already spotting the paper. The scent of fries wafts out. He passes it to Scully, who tucks the receipt into his wallet and shoves it back under the console. She balances the bag on her knees. At least if her jeans get greasy, it’s not as dire a situation. Mulder hauls on the wheel and pulls out of the parking lot. 

“Mulder,” she says when he doesn’t take the half-familiar turns that would get the back to the hotel. She wants to spread her food out over her cheap bedspread and watch something mind-numbing on television.

“Trust me, Scully,” he says.

Two more turns and a rectangle of light looms at the side of the road. It’s a drive-in theater. She hasn’t been to one in so long she can’t remember.

“Hide the food,” he says.

“Give me your shirt,” she tells him. 

He shrugs out of his flannel while he drives and she tucks the food as far under her seat as she can without crushing the burgers, which slip slickly inside their wrappers. She drapes the shirt over the cups in the cupholder, propping her foot on the emergency brake.

“How many?” asks the bored kid in the booth.

“Two,” Mulder says with a grin. 

“No alcohol, no drugs, anything you eat or drink has to be purchased from concessions,” the teen recites, taking Mulder’s money and handing over a paper pass to put on their dashboard.

“Of course,” Mulder nods, his voice solemn. “We would never break the rules, would we, Scully?”

“Never,” she says. Her voice catches a little. She’d like to think it’s from her last couple of hours of relative silence rather than her scruples. She’s not that much of a goody-goody, that she’d quail at sneaking her hard-earned dinner into a well-deserved movie. She can still enjoy a forbidden thrill. 

The previews are just ending as they pull into their spot. Mulder rolls down the windows and tunes the radio to the right station. The soundtrack swells distorted from the interiors of a few dozen cars, something poppy to introduce the comedy of it all. Scully retrieves the burgers and uncovers the sodas, but the fries are a loss, loose in the bag. Scully digs out the ketchup packets and smears one onto the wrapper of her burger. They watch the movie, their hands brushing as they reach into the bag for the fries. The burgers are good. Mulder drapes his shirt over her shoulders as it gets colder. She cuddles into it, her feet pushed up against the dashboard. He tilts his chair back. When the teen from the booth starts coming around with a flashlight, checking for contraband, they hastily cram the trash into the glove compartment. It’s a moment of delicious conspiracy, just the two of them pitting their wits against a bored adolescent. The youth flicks his light past their car and moves on. Mulder grins at her and Scully can’t help grinning back. For once, the stakes of the game are so low as to be meaningless. It’s a nice change.

They watch the movie, cocooned in the rental car in a drowsy half-hypnosis. Scully feels astoundingly normal. All the same, it’s clearly an exceptional event. However Mulder protests, he’s not made for the small-town life, or maybe she’s not. She can’t imagine this as their life together, not after tasting the wilds of the world. Besides, she can’t live in a place that doesn’t have good seafood. 

The movie is a double feature; without discussing it, they decide to stay. Mulder ventures out at the break to find the restroom and comes back with popcorn and candy. Scully scouts her own route and comes back to filch a few Junior Mints. The bitter chocolate and the tingle of the mint linger in her mouth. The second movie is a romance, comforting in its predictability. Mulder cups Scully’s hand in his and tips a few more Junior Mints into her palm.

“I’m fading,” Mulder says with a yawn.

“Me too,” Scully agrees. She doesn’t need to see the romance resolved. She’s seen it all before. The ending is inevitable. 

They drive away. The stars appear as the glow of the screen dims behind them. Scully balls her hands in the sleeve of Mulder’s shirt and lets herself drift. 

“Tell me how the story ends,” Mulder murmurs as he takes them back to their temporary home, and Scully does.


End file.
